


man's best friend

by lasciel



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Atlas CEO Rhys, Banter, Explicit Sexual Content, Knotting, Other, Queen Bee AU, Robot Sex, Robot/Human Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:17:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasciel/pseuds/lasciel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys weighs every aspect of himself carefully before sharing it with his employees. Has to, even if outsiders do not see it, much less understand it.</p><p>A long time ago, Rhys drew a line; over metal, unforgiving pandoran sand and the bodies of those who thought he shouldn't be — <i>couldn't be</i> — at the top simply for what he was.</p><p>He deliberately skirts that line sometimes, crosses it even when the situation calls for it, but it's still a constant in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	man's best friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [callmearcturus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmearcturus/gifts).
  * Inspired by [repertoire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5264774) by [callmearcturus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmearcturus/pseuds/callmearcturus). 



> (turns out: all you need to defeat writer’s block is a friend whom you want to cheer up more than anything else.) set between chapter 5 and 6 of [repertoire](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5264774/chapters/12148142).
> 
> yes, I wrote Loader Bot/Rhys porn. but let's be real here: I already wrote Thresher/Rhys, so this is probably not even a blip on Santa's radar screen.

There's a familiar and unwelcome itch under Rhys' skin.

Unwelcome not because Rhys doesn't know how to deal with it; something — or someone — taking him by surprise, that only happens rarely. He's good at thinking on his toes, at evaluating and reacting.

Otherwise, Rhys wouldn't be where he was now: sitting in his expensive but functional office as the CEO of Atlas, responsible not only for roughly one thousand people but also for much, much more money than he ever thought he'd see in his entire lifetime.

Rhys sighs, pops open another button of his collar. The itch is unwelcome because apart from leaving him feeling a bit too hot, it always leaves him thinking too much about inconsequential things as well. Leaning a bit further against the wonderfully cushioned side of his chair, he activates his palm and accesses his schedule.

He'll have to postpone the meeting with Chia from marketing this evening, probably cancel tomorrow morning's appointments as well. Rhys takes a disgruntled sip from his drink, and even its sweet, heavy flavour doesn't soothe him. He loathes it when his biology disrupts his daily life.

But Rhys learned a long time ago that some things are better dealt with sooner rather than later. “Hey, Elbie,” he says, as soon as he sees that his call was accepted, “You around this evening?”

It's a harmless question to anyone else who might overhear it and a nonsensical one only to them. Elbie is _always_ around. That's kind of his entire point.

It's also an opening, an offer. Never an order. Considering who and what he is, consent is probably even more important to Rhys than it is to other people.

Elbie takes up his part of the familiar dance immediately and flawlessly. “What do you require me for, Rhys?”

A very formal response, without any snark to it. So Elbie isn't alone right now. Rhys picks his words accordingly. “I want another look at modification K, see if it's really up to our standards,” he says easily, relaxing further into his chair.

Is the name particularly clever? No.

Is it easy to remember when you're on the third day of your heat, desperate and completely out of your mind? Years of experience have Rhys answer in the affirmative on this one.

“Which model?”

Rhys ponders that for a moment, eyes on the rest of his drink. He shrugs, feeling adventurous. “I'm leaving that up to you.” _Surprise me._ “Functionality-wise, they are all build on the same base model. I just want to have another look at the finer details, check if the experience is...” Rhys smiles to himself, can't resist. “....satisfying.”

There's a minuscule pause, one only Rhys could probably notice. And properly appreciate as well. He can only imagine the countless replies Elbie is going through right now, dismissing them immediately again because there are ears that might be listening in on them.

“Acknowledged.”

Rhys swallows a laugh. Oh, there's definitely going to be payback for his comment later on and honestly, Rhys is looking forward to it.

He picks up the sound of heavy machinery in the background, and a very familiar, chipper voice talking a mile a minute. “Tell Gortys to dial down her irresistible charm a bit. I don't want to have to talk somebody else out of trying to adopt her.”

A very different kind of pause this time, and it's all too easy to imagine that Elbie feels the same fond exasperation in this moment. “Acknowledged.”

Rhys stands up, stretches his arms over his head. A shudder travels down the entire length of his body, and he feels terribly warm already. Still, there's one more appointment he'll have to attend today, and then it's time to take care of that itch. “Until later, Elbie.”

“Until then, Rhys.”

* * *

Rhys makes the itch, the quiet anticipation for the evening, work in his favour. He leaves the collar of his tailored shirt open, more than is particularly decent, leaves himself looking shamefully expensive but _obtainable_.

The two representatives — a stocky alpha, and a bulky beta — take one _long_ look at the delicate and flushed skin of his neck and collarbone, at the inviting slant of his hips, further accentuated by the flared waistcoat he's wearing and are instantly put at ease.

It's almost comical, really, how easy it is to be perceived as harmless, and Rhys would laugh in their patronising faces if it wouldn't ruin the image he's trying to cultivate right now.

They are working for a nameless subcontractor Rhys would usually not bother with personally, but Aubret from R&D is sure she needs one of their hush-hush components for their new e-tech shield line. And what else can Rhys do but make the very best possible for his people?

He accepts the three ultimately insignificant changes they propose, makes sure to hesitate here and there, to blink a bit more often than is normal, perfecting the distracted-omega-look, and not even half an hour later the contract is signed.

The two representatives are going to leave Pandora while smugly patting their shoulders, convinced they fucked Rhys over at least figuratively, even if neither of them had the courage to approach him directly, when in truth the contract was carefully designed to work entirely in Atlas' favour.

Needless to say, Rhys doesn't even have to fake a smile when he says, “I'm looking forward to working with you and your company.”

* * *

Evening finds Rhys naked in his rooms, spread out over his bed belly down. He's looking at the market happenings of the day, wondering how much longer they can keep a lid on their freshly acquired vault. In his other hand, he's holding a glass of water from Demophon — expensive, but without any weird aftertaste.

The temperature is pleasant, warm but not too warm, and still Rhys shivers occasionally, a fine sheen of sweat on his back. This itch, it's not like the heat. It's a mild annoyance in between, a craving of his body for something very specific.

He already prepared himself perfunctorily, careful not to get lost in the tempting feeling of finally being stretched and filled. Rhys takes a sip of his water, humming to himself when he reads that Hyperion is working on another prototype, promising to 'revolutionise weapon design as we know it'.

“Never one for small gestures, are we, Jack?” he murmurs, looking at the next headline already. He doesn't dwell on the man in question or on the eridium mine stolen from right underneath his nose. That would be wasted energy.

But still his empty hole clenches on nothing at the thought of Jack, and maybe it was a mistake to let the alpha knot him, to let him in so close.

Rhys rub his half hard cock against the bed, but only for one luxurious moment before he forces himself to stop again. Another shiver claims him.

Scratch that, it was definitely a mistake. He smiles lopsidedly, eyes darting to yet another headline. A mistake Rhys doesn't particularly mind, though, considering it got him sweet and surprisingly ripped Vaughn, and as of yet still unknown, future possibilities.

And if Rhys took no small amount of pleasure in ignoring the handful of times Jack tried to contact him after his tactical withdrawal, well, that's nothing anybody needs to know. Apart from Elbie, who probably still disapproves and knows entirely too much.

Speaking of which... Rhys places the glass on the bedside table, languidly rolls his hips against the mattress once more. Elbie is sure taking his time or maybe Rhys is just getting impatient.

The thing is, he isn't lacking for options. There are many alphas who would be more than happy to knot him, seeing it as just another aspect of their lives they want to share with him.

But Rhys weighs every aspect of himself carefully before sharing it with his employees. Has to, even if outsiders do not see it, much less understand it.

A long time ago, Rhys drew a line; over metal, unforgiving pandoran sand and the bodies of those who thought he shouldn't be — _couldn't_ be — at the top simply for what he was.

He deliberately skirts that line sometimes, crosses it even when the situation calls for it, but it's still a constant in his life.

Speaking of constants. Rhys smiles to himself when he sees the notification on his palm display that somebody just entered his rooms. He powers the display off, and turns onto his back when he hears Elbie's heavy trait drawing closer.

“I was beginning to wonder if you were leaving me hanging here.”

“Gortys did make a very tempting offer of playing another round of Hide and Seek with me,” Elbie says when he enters, placing a small box on the table.

From the bed, Rhys can't really see what it is, and for a second he thinks about activating his ECHOeye and scanning the mystery box. But there are... more pressing matters he would rather focus on. “I appreciate you delaying your rematch for me, I really do.”

Elbie moves closer to the bed, shiny orange eye heavy on Rhys. “You assured me she was not hiding in your office, and that you were busy and not to be disturbed.” He doesn't hold himself any differently than usual, but still his metal frame manages to convey disappointment.

Rhys really outdid himself programming him. “If I remember correctly, I told you that I couldn't possibly tell you where she was hiding.” Which wasn't a lie, exactly, because... “You try ratting her out when she's hiding under _your_ desk and looking at you with huge, beseeching eyes.” It was almost impossible to say no to her. Further proof that Gortys was much more dangerous than her appearance let on, even leaving aside the entire vault business.

Placing first one, then the other knee joint on the bed, Elbie says, “I do not have a desk.”

Chuckling, Rhys eyes are drawn to the lower end of Elbie's chrome chassis, wondering which K mod is hiding underneath its lower hatch. “You lost that round, fair and square.” And before Elbie can further argue about that, he adds, “How do you want me?” Rhys is purposely leaving himself open here, a peace offering and an apology of sorts for siding with Gortys.

He expects, _I want you to stop making bad decisions_ or _I want you to stop sending me away when you think you have a situation under control, because I usually have well founded doubts about your judgement_.

He does not expect Elbie to say: “You wanted it to be a surprise.”

Rhys blinks. Then he smiles slyly, turning back around, onto his hands and knees this time. He doesn't make a show out of, doesn't have to, not with Elbie. “I did, didn't I?” he acknowledges quietly, wondering not for the first time if Elbie can actually read his thoughts.

A large metal palm settles on his left side immediately, and Rhys shivers, in anticipation and because it's startlingly cool against his sweaty skin.

“You did,” Elbie confirms needlessly, and in the next non-breath, “Have you prepared yourself for me?”

Rhys snorts. “We really have to work on your dirty ta—”

A hard, unyielding finger presses into him, and Rhys trails off with a hissed curse. Elbie's appendages aren't exactly small, and with the only perfunctory preparation he did earlier, Rhys feels the insistent stretch of it down to his bones.

It feels _amazing_ , and his body is already demanding more more more of it.

“This will not suffice,” Elbie tells him, managing to sound admonishing.

But all Rhys can think is, _he picked one of the bigger mods_ , and he shudders, fingers gripping tightly at his bedding while a sense of giddiness washes through him.

Elbie doesn't need any directions for this, not since the first time, when Rhys talked him through every step of it and Elbie asked for clarification in between. He works Rhys open with the one finger until slick is leaking from him, adds a second finger when Rhys presses back into the delicious stretch.

Rhys groans, already trembling, and gratefully leans against the firm hold of Elbie's other hand, enjoys the feeling of the smooth metal against his skin.

“Are you ready?”

Nodding his head, Rhys throws a quick smile over his shoulder. “Yeah, come on, let's get this show on the road, Elbie.”

There's a small click, followed by a louder one, and Rhys holds his breath in anticipation, spreads his legs further apart.

Elbie isn't one to let himself be told twice. He places his other hand on Rhys' right side, now effectively engulfing almost Rhys' entire lower body, and then he shifts forward until the blunt tip of his metal cock is resting against Rhys' intolerably empty hole.

Another second of almost unbearable anticipation, and then it's pressing in, and Rhys lets out a long hiss at the hard, unforgiving stretch of it. He falls onto his front, hands fisted in his cushion, and Elbie stops moving. “Keep going,” Rhys manages to demand between deep, open-mouthed inhalations, and Elbie does, even if noticeably slower than before.

He stops once he's deep inside of Rhys, chassis pressed close against Rhys' ass, and all Rhys can do is hold himself still and try to _breathe_. It's definitely one of the larger mods, if not _the_ largest in their secret arsenal, almost too thick, too long. Too much.

But Rhys enjoys a worthy challenge, can dimly remember designing a few models with his own limits in mind. He purposely relaxes, until only Elbie's hands and the truly massive cock inside of him are still keeping him upright.

Elbie waits, pats Rhys' hip once in a show of silent support and encouragement.

With an amused huff on his lips, Rhys nods again. “Go on, Elbie.”

“Acknowledged,” Elbie replies, and Rhys' snort ends rather abruptly when he pulls out of Rhys, only to push in again immediately. Not fast, but slow and steady, the rhythm all the more intense for it.

It doesn't take long until Rhys is clutching desperately at the headboard in front of him, the force of Elbie's thrusts shoving him forward every time. There's nothing to mask the noises being forced out of Rhys, the gasps and moans or the hoarse scream when Elbie hits his prostate, and hits it once more right after. Even the hydraulics working in Elbie's chassis seem to be drowned out completely by the wet, obscene sound his cock makes while it drives in and out of Rhys' slick opening.

“Please,” Rhys presses out between clenched teeth, hair clinging to his sweaty forehead, and his body humming with the need for the last ingredient in this potent flesh and metal mix.

And Elbie— stops moving, blunt tip barely inside of Rhys.

Elbie talks right over the indignant and desperate noise Rhys makes. “I hope this is a satisfying experience, Rhys.”

A disbelieving laugh startles out of his throat, and Rhys turns slightly, grins up at Elbie's eye. Its glow seems even stronger with mischief, and Rhys' voice is a breathless mess when he says, “You waited a long time for that dig.”

Elbie tilts his upper body, barely noticeable, apparently considering his reply. “You taught me that timing is the most important aspect of verbal sparring.”

Rhys lets his head fall forward again, feeling high-strung, all too aware of the empty, gaping looseness of his ass and the dripping hardness of his cock. “Either I did a terrible job programming you or I ended up doing it too well, I really can't decide right now.”

“I am probably not the most objective entity to discuss this with.”

A deep inhale, followed by a pitiful and ultimately useless effort of pressing himself back against the cock teasing at his opening. Rhys might as well be trying to move stone, and the magnificent disparity in strength sends a thrill through him, makes his cock ache even more. He whimpers, “Elbie, _please_.”

“As you wish,” Elbie says in lowered tones, and that's almost enough already. He holds Rhys still while he fucks deep into him one last time, and then the firm rod inside of Rhys begins to thicken at its base.

Even knowing the exact mechanics behind it doesn't make this feel any less amazing, and Rhys comes with an inarticulate shout while the metal cock stretches his rim further and further.

He gasps, going completely lax underneath Elbie, and the metal palms holding him fast have long turned warm thanks to the heat he's giving off. Rhys whines when the unforgiving stretch at his hole becomes too much, and Elbie instantly stops expanding the base of his cock. He presses his fingers harder against Rhys' sides, the gesture followed by a slight whirr, and then the excess fluid is flooding Rhys' insides, and Rhys might as well have turned into putty.

Expensive, high-class putty, but putty nonetheless.

It's not exactly like being with an alpha, but his body is more than fooled, leaving Rhys completely relaxed and happy.

So far, the K modification only exists between Elbie and himself, and Rhys feels nothing but pity for the omegas who have to rely on an alpha to give them this blissful feeling. Maybe he'll release them to the public in a few years, but even thinking of the inevitable tacky headlines is enough to make him want to pull a face.

“Heads up.”

Rhys barely manages an inquisitive sound before Elbie is already manhandling him with no effort at all. He turns them around, Elbie's back against the headboard with Rhys arranged between his legs, and Rhys' head resting on another cushion considerately placed on Elbie's shoulder.

Elbie is careful through this, and the thick, thick knot inside of Rhys barely pulls at him, and absently, Rhys almost wishes that it did. He dismisses the thought instantly again, instead appraises the blossoming dark bruises on his hips.

His eyes are already slipping shut when Elbie says, apropos of nothing, “Gortys told me to bring your favourite sweets, the tiny chocolate and honey ones.”

Rhys hums, making himself more comfortable and not really listening at all.

“She said, and I quote, 'it is only appropriate for such a delicate and exhausting test run'.”

Groaning, Rhys draws his left hand over his face. “She's entirely too clever for her own good.”

Elbie's following silence is all the affirmation he needs.

Still... “Really, my favourite sweets?” He pats the hand lying on his right, takes a moment to appreciate how well their chrome appendages look together. “I like you two the best.”

“Of course you do, Rhys,” Elbie says immediately, without any inflection, “This is not a new piece of information for me, but I will make sure to share it with Gortys later on.”

Rhys slaps Elbie's arm lightly. “Hey, restrain your level of snark while your knot is still inside of me.” He shifts slightly, enjoying the various aches and complains of his body. “You up for another round in a bit?”

“Taking into account that I am considerably more durable and resilient than you, let me phrase my reply as following: Are you?”

Rhys grins, trails one finger over Elbie's frame in reply.

Some itches simply need to be scratched more thoroughly than others.


End file.
